


Mirror Image

by Stonestrewn



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonestrewn/pseuds/Stonestrewn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, if I’m me and you’re me…”</p><p>The double rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Do we have an existential crisis or do we make out?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Image

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for a femlash meme i did back in February.

The image in the mirror ripples. Isabela’s reflection trembles, vibrates, begins to blur around the edges, smudge like ink on wet paper. The glass is heaving, inflating like a soap bubble, bulging like a belly heavy with child. It swells larger and larger, near filling the small room. The roof, the floor, the walls all reflect on the surface, stretched and distorted by the trembling dome. At last, when the distending seems to be coming to a stop it shivers violently – and pops.

There’s no crack, no shower of shards. The glass silently splits, retracts and reforms, as out through the opening steps Isabela’s reflection, as real and three-dimensional as ever the original.

Isabela shuts her mouth and relaxes her posture, pours the nonchalance back into the tilt of her head.

“Well,” she says, “that’s something.”

The other Isabela cocks her hip and lets her gaze slide with leisurely pleasure over the front of Isabela’s torso, down her thighs.

“It sure is.” 

Isabela returns the appreciative look, lingering especially on the gaps beneath the lacing of her bodice where the skin peeks through. When her double takes a step forward she holds up her hands, stopping her.

“Hang on, back up a bit again. Now spin around.” The other Isabela complies, throwing her an arch-browed questioning glance over the shoulder. “I’ve never seen myself properly from this angle before,” Isabela explains. She heaves a contented sigh, brushing her palm over the curve of the other’s ass. “Oh, this is  _nice.”_

Other-bela wiggles her butt in response, chasing after the touch. She catches Isabela’s wrist, leading her hand up the curve of her hip and waist, turning slowly to face her. She cups Isabela’s hand over her breast, squeezes.

“Take the full tour,” she says. “Mirrors just don’t compare.”

“Not that I don’t love my mirrors.”

“That I do.”

There’s no distance between them now. They’re pressed up against each other, Isabela kneading her double’s breast, running her tongue in the cleft between them, tasting the salt of her own sweat and smelling only herself, her own arousal. The other has wrapped her arms around her and she’s touching Isabela all over: stroking her neck and rubbing her back and grabbing her ass, hard. It’s all so familiar, it aligns so flawlessly with what’s in her brain that it’s almost confusing.

Isabela lifts her head, takes a deep breath. She tries to focus on the well-known face in front of her, now frowning.

“So, if I’m me and  _you’re_ me…”

The double rolls her eyes.

“Do we have an existential crisis or do we make out?”

Isabela laughs at that. She nips at the other’s lower lip, enough for it to pinch but not draw blood. Her mirror image retaliates by kissing her fully, kissing her deep and hard and hot and  _perfect_. They’re beautifully matched, breathing in synch. The other Isabela knows just where to push and when to yield, she’s both ferocious and supple in all the right ways.

The bed isn’t far away and when Isabela decides that’s where this is going, she only needs to angle her body slightly in the right direction for her double to catch on. She takes the lead, however, pulling the other Isabela with her until the straw mattress touches the insides of her knees and she sinks onto it, the other following diligently. They keep kissing through it all.

She knows they both want to be the one on their back but dammit, this is no time  _not_ to be selfish, and since the Isabela from the mirror makes no sign of complaining she settles in, arching up against her, urgently spreading her legs. She’s wet, maybe wetter than she’s ever been. Even the first hint of the other’s fingers touching her labia is like a spark of magic lightning and she moans, earning a teasing chuckle for it.

But her double, thank every absent deity over and under the sun, is not a tease on the whole, and she has her thumb on Isabela’s clit soon enough, has two fingers deep inside her and has Isabela halfway to the orgasm of a lifetime.

“If you turn out to be some unholy horror, can you please wait with the whole grisly reveal thing until we’re done getting off here,” Isabela sighs, and the other Isabela grins.

“No promises. You know us,” she says with a wink. “Andraste in the streets… “

“…A demon in the sheets. Fair enough.”

The fingers pick up their pace and Isabela rolls her hips into the touch, lets it wind her thigh muscles up tight and set her nerves ablaze – but she sneaks one hand under the pillow and wraps it around the hilt of the dagger there, just to be safe.


End file.
